


Duro's Tale

by Cheryl1964



Series: Duro's View of the Rebellion [1]
Category: Spartacus: Blood and Sand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 19:20:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4799300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheryl1964/pseuds/Cheryl1964
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duro tells the story of the beginning of the Third Servile War from his own perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duro's Tale

My brother and I grew up in the forest east of the Rhine. He is older than me by three winters but often acted as if he was much older. It was his self-imposed task to protect me and take care of me. A task he took upon himself when our father fell in battle.

 

Our father was a warrior fighting against the Roman shits who desired our lands and the Gauls who allied with them. To learn that he had fallen to a Gaul’s blade was an important event in our lives. We hated the Romans yes; their greed for conquest was known to all yet mostly a distant rumor to us. The Gauls however were a threat that had stood at our borders as long as anyone could remember.

 

It was no surprise many seasons later when Agron and I packed provisions and our swords and headed off to face the Romans and Gauls once again threatening our lands. After all we were our father’s sons. And like our father we too left our mother and sisters to grieve our loss, we were taken in battle and loaded on a ship to be taken to the very heart of the Roman Republic.

 

We were among the fortunate ones. I know many would ask how being made a slave to the Romans was fortunate. We survived the trip; many did not. And when that bastard Trebius came to select men to sell as gladiators in Capua; Agron and I were once again taken together. Fortunate in that we survived; fortunate to be sold together to the ludus of Quintus Batiatus; fortunate we met the man that would strike fear into the very heart of the Roman Senate.

 

Being in the ludus was an adjustment. One my brother adapted to easily; he was always the better fighter between the two of us. I was not as skilled as my brother; but I too adjusted in my way easily cultivating friends among those we were now expected to join. The only one that made life more difficult than it need be was that fucking Gaul, Crixus.

 

The man was taken to sickbed when first we arrived; laid low by a renowned gladiator called Theokles. I suppose that I can understand the Gaul's ill-temper to a point; thanks to Theokles, Crixus had lost his title and standing in the house of Batiatus to Spartacus, The Bringer of Rain. And what life Crixus had left did not speak of future victories; but a fallen champion well past his prime. Or at least that is what I assumed on arrival in the ludus. I would later be proven wrong.

 

Spartacus; now there is a tale to be told. I well remember my first sight of him. It seemed at odds with the tales whispered in the streets of Neapolis and Capua. The tales of the fight that led to Theokles’ death made Theokles out to be a giant; I assumed that he could only be laid low by another giant. Spartacus was no giant; he was but a tiny little man like the rest of us. But he was Batiatus prized champion.

 

Wait I have not spoken of Batiatus! A slimy little creature of plots and schemes and his wife cut from the same cloth. I had no idea of the house of shit we were entering but it soon became clear to all the hell we found ourselves in. A hell borne of Batiatus’ schemes and ambitions and it began with rumors of murder and schemes of Roman ambitions.

 

The schemes were of Batiatus making. He wished to move beyond being a lanista to political office and was willing to kiss any ass that might assist him in reaching them. His wife also assisted in these schemes kissing the asses of prominent Roman women; this is what led to murder. It was well known that there was a history between Spartacus and a certain Gaius Claudius Glaber; a military man and ‘Legatus’ (whatever that is, Roman titles hold no interest to me); however Glaber held influence that could see Batiatus ambitions filled. And as I said earlier; Batiatus would place lips upon any ass that could further them.

 

No one in the ludus knows the details of the event; yet the wife of Glaber murdered a woman called Licinia Crassus. Crassus is a name known to all for the wealth the man holds. Even the Romans use the words ‘Rich as Crassus’ to indicate wealth. Glaber may have held power but even east of the Rhine we understand that wealth is a power unto itself.

 

To put the tale briefly; Glaber was forced to protect his woman from the wrath of Crassus. This allowed Batiatus the means to force him to grant patronage to the house of Batiatus. You would think that the schemes of Roman nobles would have no effect upon us in the ludus; we were gladiators after all. It was a pivotal moment; the moment when our lives went to hell. And of course; the Gaul was center of the shit storm.

 

Glaber had made the first attempt to see us consigned to misery; but Spartacus showed him exactly why he was the Slayer of the Shadow of Death and the Champion of Capua. I had once called him a ‘tiny little man’ yet he fought as a giant defeating a clutch of Glaber’s men with nothing but practice swords.

 

We thought the matter ended; then that Syrian fuck Ashur laid hand upon Lucretia’s body slave, Naevia. Crixus lost all sense of reason attacking the bastard before Glaber’s eyes. It was the reason needed. Glaber saw us all chained save when training. We did not have even the illusion of freedom within the ludus.

 

Such existence chafed against us all; it is then when Spartacus began to speak of escape. Agron and I seized opportunity with both hands; Spartacus had his first two conspirators. We sought others to join our cause and they all swore to join in save Doctore (who we avoided knowing that he would be tethered by his sense of honor) and those who followed the fucking Gaul that was the catalyst for our misery. Eventually Spartacus found opportunity to speak with Crixus and the fool stood against us; at first.

 

In the end; Crixus not only joined us; he called for us to kill all within the villa. Romans fell to our blades men, women, children, guards; we returned ever drop of blood spilled, every moment of suffering in greater measure than was dealt to us! Ah the fire coursing through us! It was also however the moment that I fell from life.

 

How you ask? It was my choice. My brother and I had met upon the sands; he did not see the Roman raise blade to his back; I did. Agron would have taken the blow as his due in protecting me. Yet his life from the moment we learned of our father’s death had been spent protecting me; for the first time I had opportunity to protect him; so I pushed him from danger and took blow to my own body.

 

It was not just a desire to be the hero that moved me to do such. Spartacus has much rancor against Rome; I would see it spilled over onto those deserving. Perhaps Spartacus can make Rome tremble and see the error of tearing men from their homes and families and dragging them here as if mindless animals.

 

Agron is the better fighter between us. I would have his sword at Spartacus side. Perhaps in the end no other woman will have to suffer as our own mother has.


End file.
